


a fic that is not a spin the bottle fic but has spin the bottle in it so it's sort of a spin the bottle fic

by remuslupin



Category: Chronicle (2012), Dane Gang - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kissing, M/M, idk what other tags can i even put on this lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6630445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remuslupin/pseuds/remuslupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>andrew & lucien attend a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a fic that is not a spin the bottle fic but has spin the bottle in it so it's sort of a spin the bottle fic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aisu10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisu10/gifts).



> WOWIE THIS WAS AN ADVENTURE TO WRITE. uhhhhhhh nothing much to say, except for the fact that it's set in the chronicle universe (hence the tag "canon divergence" lmao) and andrew & lu are still best friends. bc they gay. thanks for reading, don't forget to leave kudos if you enjoyed!!!! 
> 
> this is dedicated to aisu, my wonderful rp partner. i hope i did andrew justice!!!

“—Who wants to play spin the bottle!”’

Already, you’re groaning.

You'd ask yourself why exactly you let yourself be dragged to this party— you're still not exactly sure whose house this is, and you don't know whether it's a celebration or if it's one of those stereotypical “let's have a party because my parents left town” bashes— if the culprit himself wasn't sitting right next to you, leaning against your side perhaps a little too heavily as he converses with some girl from the cheer team. Victoria? Gwen? You're not sure.

As soon as the screamed invitation to play the game rings out across the room, however, the weight is lifted from your side and Lucien stands with a malicious smile, grabbing your free hand and pulling you up beside him.

“Dude, if you think I'm actually going to _play_ —”

“ _Relax_ , Detmer. I never asked you to play, just _sit_ with me. If it lands on you, I'll take one for the team.”

You roll your eyes, camera jolting along with the heave of your shoulders as you huff out a louder than necessary sigh.

“Fine. But there's no way in hell I’m kissing anyone tonight.”

 

###

 

It's Lucien’s turn.

It seems that the crowd gathered around the circle has almost doubled since his turn had been announced, and you only have a split second to wonder why exactly everyone is so _obsessed_ with him before he's flashing you a smile that could probably make any female (or male, really) in the room drop their panties without question. Right.

It’s clear that he’s taking a moment to revel in all the attention he’s getting— as if he doesn’t get enough of that already— but a few seconds later, he leans forward and spins the bottle in the middle of the circle with a deft flick of his wrist.

It spins swiftly and surely, and before long, the bottle comes back full circle once, twice, and then once again. Your view of the makeshift spinning top is constrained, since you're looking at it through your camera screen in an attempt to get the nicest looking shot you can manage (‘nicest’ in this case, of course, meaning a shot with the least amount of drunken teenagers in the background). So, when it finally ceases its spinning, you don't even realise that the mouth of the bottle is pointing right at you.  

When you do, though—

“Oh.”

Your gaze lifts slowly and lands on Lucien’s. His expression is fairly neutral, as if he's just _waiting_ for you to chicken out.

Might as well live up to his expectations, then.

Not a single word is exchanged between you two before you're shakily clutching the camera to your chest and clambering to your feet. Amidst the various murmurs of frustration and shouts of ‘killjoy!’ that sound from the various occupants of the circle, you finally hear him call out your name— but you don't bother offering any response.

You need to get out of here, and _fast_.

Stumbling out into the cool air of the Saturday evening feels like finally being able to take a breath in after breaching the surface of a deep lake, and you're thankful for every single breath that you manage to take as you step forward a few paces and sit heavily on the porch stairs. This was a mistake.

That particular realisation is only confirmed as you hear the front door swing open behind you, and you automatically hunch in over your camera because you're all but expecting someone to taunt you, to hit you now that Lucien and Matt aren't around, but—

All you feel is a gentle touch to your shoulder, so featherlight that you almost begin to wonder if you had just imagined it before Lucien finally introduces himself to your line of vision. As soon as he does, however, you look away, not wanting to face him just yet.

“If you want me to apologise for leaving, then it's not going to happen.”

You can't see him, but you still hear him exhale deeply through his nose. “Hey. I said you didn't have to play. Did you think that I was just counting myself as an exception?”

All you have to offer is a shrug.

You hear a rustle of clothing, now, and you vaguely wonder if he's going to walk away, but instead the steps creak gently as he descends and sits atop them.

“So, you think that I’d force you into doing something— or rather, _kissing someone_ you don't want to?” Lucien has, of course, dragged you into doing a multitude of things that you originally hadn't wanted to do. That isn’t to say that you were worse off because of them… But that isn't the point here.

Your shoulders lift, and then drop back down once more.

Lucien scoffs. His hand retracts from your arm, and that's how you know that you've struck a nerve. You are fully aware that there are some things about his past that he doesn't talk about, just like there are things involving your own life that you simply can't bring yourself to talk about. All you know is that his had involved a stalker, who had followed him from New York to Chicago, and that the entire debacle had ended with Lucien’s head in an oven. Whether it was self-inflicted or forced upon him, you aren’t sure— but you do know that in implying Lucien to be anything like David, you've stepped over the line. You fully intend to apologise, but Lucien’s next words throw you off.

“You know what, Andrew? Fine. Stay here, go home, do _whatever_ you want if you’re really under the impression that I'm _that_ kind of person. You might be my best friend, but you're not my _only_ friend. I can live without you for one night.”

Oh, really?

There’s barely any reason for you to be mad, but you’re just sick of— _whatever_ this is. Whatever it is that’s going on right now. You turn towards him as your lips part, fully intending to maintain eye contact while you speak, but at some point during your spiel, you find that you just can’t bring yourself to look at him any longer. “You're not _my_ friend, you're my _problem_! You always drag me into this kind of shit, and get mad whenever one little thing doesn't end up going your way!”

You expect him to yell right back at you, to go on some fucking soliloquy about how it was time to break the circle anyway and that the two of you should just depart the party as nothing more than acquaintances, but that isn't what happens at all.

Lucien reaches across and seizes your chin, turning your head to the side until you're finally facing him. You open your mouth to yell some more, to protest, to complain about how he's being a fucking _asshole_ (as usual), but your thought process is immediately shut down as his thumb pushes down lightly over your lips.

“Do you know what you do with problems, Detmer?”

A beat of silence passes between the two of you before he answers.

“You fucking _solve_ them.”

You mean to leave. You're sure about that much, at least.

But when you raise your hand and pull his finger away from your mouth so that you can finally say something totally cutting and ruthless and scathing about how he should go be someone else's problem for once, someone who'd actually _enjoy_ having him as their problem—

You just—

You mean to just get up and leave.

You do.  
  
Except—  
  
That isn’t what happens.  
  
Not exactly.

While it’s _you_ who had initiated it, you soon become aware of the fact that Lucien kisses like he fights— no matter whether he starts it or not, he _always_ takes control in the end. He’s all tongue and teeth and everything that you never thought you’d like, but you surprise yourself with the realisation that you do when it’s coming from _him_.

While one hand stays tightly clutched to your camera, the other hand reaches up and curls into the lapel of the ridiculously long jacket that he wears almost _everywhere_. After a few moments of squeezing and pulling him closer towards you, your breath hitches in your throat when it comes to your attention that his heart is beating steadily against your knuckles. The organ is thrumming harshly and faster than you’d previously thought possible, and it thrills you to know that it’s because of _you_. Lucien Carr’s heart is beating as fast as the pounding hooves of a racehorse because you are kissing him.

“—Feeling me up, Detmer?”

He’s pulled away slightly to speak, breath fluttering across your skin as his lips brush over your own. You move to pull away, but his hands settle around your neck and pull you right back as the corners of his mouth twitch upwards into a devilish grin. Clearly, he’s not going to let you get away from this one.

“Just checking to see if you actually have a heart or not. Most people think that you _don’t_ , you know.” It takes a few moments and a visible gulp before you can finally build up the nerve to reply to him— but you manage to look him in the eyes while doing so, and so you count that as a win.

“You’re not _most people_ , are you?”

“ _Most people_ wouldn’t bother to try and continue conversation after being kissed by you, dude, so I’d go with no.”

Lucien laughs, and removes a hand from behind your neck to give you an affectionate flick on the nose. You scowl halfheartedly at him as he continues to speak. “You accuse _me_ of kissing _you_ , and then you ‘dude’ me after bestowing me with said kiss. I can’t believe this.”

You’ve given up all pretense of simply holding onto the lapel of his jacket now, and your hand splays freely atop his chest as you time your breaths to the beating of his heart (which has slowed down considerably). For a moment, you feel as if you can hardly speak— if you’d thought that the kiss was special, this was something else entirely.

—Oh. The kiss.

“I kissed you.”

“You did,” he answers evenly, gaze never straying from your own.

“And… You kissed me back.”

“I did.”

“So— are we _boyfriends_ , or something?”

“Boyfriends?” Lucien giggles— honest to God _giggles—_ now, and the vigorous shaking of his chest and shoulders causes your hand to sway along with them. His heartbeat is the only thing keeping you steady as your nerves slowly threaten to get the best of you. “Andrew, we kissed _once._ ” He must have caught on to the fact that your expression now unwittingly resembles that of a kicked puppy, though, because before long, his giggles are ceasing as he bites down on his bottom lip.

“I would, however, not say no if you asked me out on a date.”

“ _Really_ , Lu? A _date_?”

“Hey, you wanted to be _boyfriends_!”

As your laughter mingles with his own, you’re a little surprised to feel something warm closing over the hand that you’ve had pushed up against Lucien’s chest for a while now. A quick glance down informs you that it’s _his_ hand, gently squeezing your own, and as his expression morphs into a more sincere simile, you decide that sometimes, labels simply can't describe your feelings.


End file.
